


Postcards

by kittywampus



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Unhappy Ending, kind of sad, mickey sends ian postcards, this is short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 22:00:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16250636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittywampus/pseuds/kittywampus
Summary: About a month after the border, Ian gets a postcard from Mexico.





	Postcards

**Author's Note:**

> Something short for Anaissa, with some ideas from Zina.

Ian vaguely wonders how Mickey so easily memorized his address

He’s been getting postcards, but there’s never a return address. Ian understands.

The postcards are always colorful. They’re landscapes of Mexico and random art. Whatever’s written there is always brief, always witty. He ignores how much he misses hearing Mickey’s voice.

He got the first one two months after the border. Thinking of it still made him frown. It merely said “Greetings from Mexico” in large letters, with a festive stamp. He saw it scattered in front of their door with the rest of the Gallagher’s mail, and if he hadn’t sifted through it briefly he’d have probably just mistaken it for junk mail. He found himself glancing around the kitchen, making sure he was alone. He felt silly for doing so, it was a fucking postcard.

“It’s a fucking postcard,” he cursed under his breath and held it with both hands, running a finger over the front of it. He exhaled softly before turning it over to see the short message written there. He cracked a smile at the familiar messy scrawl.

_“Figured because you love me and shit you’d wanna know I’m alive or whatever. Your pale ass would’ve burned the second you set foot on the beach. Take care of yourself, asshole. —M”_

Ian smiled wide. Very wide. He hoped it wasn’t the last one he’d get. It felt good to know Mickey didn’t completely resent him for what he did, why he didn’t go. He had his reasons, and as much as it hurt him to watch Mickey go without him, it had to be done. Maybe Mickey understood that.

-

It wasn’t the last one.

The second one came about a month after that, it was a vertical vintage looking art of a desert landscape. The mail had been haphazardly dropped onto the kitchen table for sorting. When sat down to go through it after work, the corner of his mouth turned upwards when he realized what it was. Double paper clipped to it was a polaroid of a bottle of tequila sat in sand, a little worn looking. He flipped over the card and couldn’t help his grin from growing.

_“Got that tequila we talked about. Kinda miss your big dumb face, but I’m doing good. Learning more Spanish as I go. Used that fat wad of cash to find a place, got a job now. Hope you’re good, too. —M”_

Ian couldn’t help it, he laughed. He imagined Mickey enjoying himself on the beach, drinking tequila with a slight sunburn. He tucked the polaroid in his wallet for safe keeping.

-

When the third one comes, it’s much needed. He hadn’t gotten one in six months, so he’d started to accept that he’d probably not get anymore. He’s been good lately, but there’s bad days. He’s still trying to accept that there’s always going to be bad days. He made it to work all week, but he couldn’t help but sleep most of his day off, only getting up to use the bathroom and wander downstairs to get some water. Everyone was out, but he’d heard someone come home for lunch, which explained the mail on the kitchen table. He moved it around lazily, scanning the papers when his eyes land on a red piece of print.

He grabbed it slowly, seeing the shape and word of Mexico come in to view. He blinked at it and flipped it over, not bothering to really observe the art on front before sitting down.

_“It’s been a while. Don’t really know if you read these, I feel kind of stupid sending them nowadays. Not much has changed, just laying low. You’d like the sunsets here. They remind me of your hair. Take it easy, Gallagher. —M”_

Ian felt stupid for the way his eyes watered. No one was around, but he felt exposed. He set down the card and rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath before going back to his room to put it with the rest of them.

-

The last one he gets isn’t for another three months, and he realizes it’s been almost a year since the border. It’s vintage looking, simple. He smiled, grabbing it from the mail pile on the kitchen table in the middle of Lip setting out plates. His smile fell slightly when he saw the note, the longest out of any of the others. He swallowed and excused himself to his bedroom.

_“I don’t really know where to start with this one. I have a boyfriend now, I guess. Not that it’s any of your business, but for some reason I feel like I have to tell you. I got the tattoo covered, too. Fact of the matter is, I don’t even know if you read these. So if you are, I have to stop sending them. I have to move on. If you do read them, you should too. Take care of yourself, Ian. —M”_

Ian stared at with wet eyes, jaw tight. He had it in his hand still, scoffing to himself at how he felt. He supposed it was silly. He’d been part of a one sided conversation for nearly a year. He couldn’t really be mad at him for moving on with his life when he had too. He took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand down his face, smiling sadly at the card before putting it with the others, and went downstairs for dinner.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
